


Getting what you want, not what you need

by Makioka



Category: David Blaize - E.F. Benson
Genre: Horror, M/M, Underage Kiss, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 01:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makioka/pseuds/Makioka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all goes wrong when David goes missing, and returns changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting what you want, not what you need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naraht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naraht/gifts).



> Surprisingly canon-compliant. Enjoy the results of crack!
> 
> Thanks for beta to joyce, all mistakes that remain are my own.

When Frank comes in, the first thing he notices is that David is smiling as he pokes up the fire, settles the kettle more firmly and spears a piece of toast on a long toasting fork. That's not unusual; David generally smiles. This is different though- he's looking at the fire and not at Frank. Frank breathes in deep. The peace between them is still so fragile, after Frank's misstep in the bathroom. David forgave him, but he has not yet forgotten, and there is still shyness between them. For a moment his vision blurs, and there's no David at all kneeling there, just a dark shadow. Of course there isn't, David is in the infirmary. Frank knows that, knows that he’s lying there in pain, with long scratches infected and raw across his back, that he can’t be up yet. Yet when he looks back, David is still there.  
  
  
He dashes forward, because what's the silly fool doing making Frank's toast when he should be _recovering_ , like the nurse had told him David needed to do. David looks up and smiles, and Frank can't quite understand what's different about it. "Frank," he says, standing, and he's grown so tall so fast, looks even taller now than he had two days before, when he hadn't come in from the fields. There'd been a search of course, the Head with dreadful seriousness scouring the grounds with a lantern himself, every one of the seniors drafted out in military formation searching every inch of the ground. They'd found David a mile away, sprawled in a dreadful parody of death, only shallowly breathing, and his back raked with claw wounds. He'd been allowed no visitors, and nurses and doctors had come and gone in close-mouthed silence, leaving the school to draw what conclusions it might.  
  
  
On the third day, the Head had made a brief announcement that David's wounds were superficial and healing fast, and that he'd been the unfortunate victim of a wild dog attack but was recovering well. Still no-one was allowed in, and the curtains were drawn around his bed. Bags had tried sneaking in, had got as far as the darkened room before being unceremoniously thrown out by a capable nurse, and given four hundred lines of Virgil by a coldly furious house-master. Frank had stayed outside for as long as he dared without drawing comment, and had found himself praying with a solemnity that he'd rarely managed before.  
  
  
Now on this, the fifth day, David is in Frank’s room. He looks well, healthy, though his face is flushed from the fire, and he's thin. He looks a little like he's passed through a fever- as though he's been cleansed and made afresh. His eyes were bright, and his smile was welcoming. "Frank," he says again, and affectionately starts forward to take Frank’s hand. "I hope you weren't too worried."  
  
  
Worry is too mild a word for the agonies that Frank has endured at the thought of David's pain, but he couldn't say that. He rather thought David understood what he was thinking though, since his friend's face darkened in sympathy, and he squeezed Frank's hand before he dropped it.   
  
  
"No," Frank says, and the lie is thin between them. "I've been rather missing toast though."  
  
  
David laughs and Frank feels his heart lift. He can't quite believe that they've let David out to go straight back to fagging for Frank but seeing his friend again is balm to his soul. "I'm so full of energy," David says. "It's strange, but I suppose lying in bed doing nothing it's understandable." He's holding out a plate of toast now, and Frank turns to the cupboard and fumbles for the cake he'd bought, and sets it on the table.   
  
  
David doesn't eat with him, saying that he doesn't feel hungry even after days of soup and gruel. He drinks tea though and watches Frank from across the table. Frank can't help being curious though. "Are you fully healed?" he asked, not quite believing it. He hadn't been amongst those who found his friend, but he'd heard the stories, heard how Figgins Major had thrown up when they'd found him. That David’s back had been a mess. David moves easily as though there are no scars under his shirt, no healing flesh or bandages. Frank tells himself how people exaggerate.  
  
  
"Yes," David says with a grin. He pulls up his shirt, and there crisscrossing his back are healed scars, thin silvery lines that look like they happened years ago, not days. Frank can hardly believe it, but David's always been a good healer. This too he tells himself, but barely believes it. "Now I'd better go," David says ruefully. "Too much longer and they'll miss me from the infirmary."  
  
  
"You're supposed to be there?" Frank demands, a flood of worry surging through him. "David, you can't just leave. You have to rest."  
  
  
"I've rested too long," David says gaily, and the smile he gives shows a flash of white teeth. "I just wanted to see you." He slips out silently, and Frank can't hear him move down the corridor.   
  
  
It becomes a regular routine after that. David will slip in for seconds or minutes at a time, and they'll chat like this isn't too strange to be believed. Frank never asks why if David has healed, he's not attending main-school again, and David never volunteers the information. Sometimes he sits too close, and Frank feels himself tense, an animal instinctive reaction that screams fear. Then he looks closer, and it's just David again, bright cheerful loving David who doesn't know how much Frank cares for him.  
  
  
Except Frank rather feels that that changes. Sometimes he catches David looking at him, head cocked as though he can read everything Frank feels in the flickers of expression across his face, and always after those looks he is closest, a strange, hungry intent look in his eyes. Frank begins to rather dread these visits. When David is David, there's no better companion in the world, and nobody who Frank loves more. But when he looks at Frank like that, there is nothing of David there.  
  
  
As the end of the month approaches the oddness becomes more frequent. David doesn't talk so much, but just curls up in front of the fire while Frank works at his books. The fire fascinates him, and he sits as close as he can get. Three weeks after the attack, David is released back into the school to the loud acclamations of his fellows, and settles right back in. He shows off the scars to anyone who will ask, and his schoolmates are of an age where any scar is fascinating. He spends less time with Frank, and Frank is glad. David always looks ravenous now, and it's a hunger that Frank's not sure he can satiate.   
  
  
He thinks back to just weeks before, when he would have killed anything, would've sacrificed anything to have David look at him like that, and curses himself for a fool, for the small part that eagerly responds to it, feels a leap of recognition, of fellow feeling. Frank knows what it is to hunger, knows what it is to burn for what he cannot have. Now it drifts within his reach, tantalising and unwholesome and he shrinks like a coward from reaching out and taking it.   
  
  
It's been twenty-six days since David was found, and once more he has slipped in, ostensibly to fulfil his duties. He spends more time than he ought in Frank's rooms, but no master complains, and the joyous celebration of his school-friends has damped down, become subdued. There is an air of fear and it affects everyone except David, who is his usual cheerful self. Tonight he is blacking the grate, not even his job, but one he takes pleasure in doing. He doesn't speak at first, and when he eventually does it's only of cricket and his voice is low. That night Frank lies awake and hears the soft deliberate shuffle of feet that stand by his bed.  
  
  
He's not sure what scares him more: making a sound and rousing the house so David is caught in his room, or not making a sound and letting David stand there and watch him. He knows it's him even in the dark; he has always known David. He lies there with eyes open, doesn't move or breathe. Eventually David goes away and Frank can breath in without suffocating on fear. He doesn't know what David is anymore.  
  
  
Overnight the moon turns bright and full, and David is buoyant all the next day, as though he cannot wait for night. He doesn't notice how other people flinch at his smile, don't meet his eyes which are a brighter blue than seems possible. His laugh is too loud, and he seems too big, too loud for the school. When he jostles Bags with a playful intensity, his friend shrinks away without even knowing, and there is silence spreading through the school wherever David walks.   
  
  
Frank is left alone that night, like he's been marked. He tries to sit with other people as long as he can, but is driven to flee, to walk alone through a school deserted. No masters tell him to sleep, and he doesn't see a single soul. When he goes outside into the gardens, the moon shines down, its light merciless and cruel, delineating every detail of every blade of grass. There's something inhuman about the scene, and the night air may be warm, but he shivers. When David lopes across the grass towards him, he isn't surprised. Now, when it's too late he realises what bothered him about David's smile. The chipped front tooth is whole now, and his teeth gleam white. David stops so close, eyes on a level with Frank's, and he is heaving in air like he can barely take in enough air.   
  
  
"I can feel it," he whispers. "This is what you wanted, Frank isn't it?" He presses a harsh dry kiss to Frank's mouth. "I want to give you what you want. Closer than any other yes?" He's already changing, already melting into grey fur, and monstrousness, and Frank closes his eyes, and accepts this as his due, as payment for what he should never have wanted. When it comes, the first scratch is swift.


End file.
